Ἑλένη (thisisspaaarta) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-07-01 14:54:00 |
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Current music: | "Battle Without Honor Or Humanity" - Tomoyasu Hotei |
Entry tags: | achilles, briseis, helen, patroclus |
Who: Helen & Achilles, Briseis, Patroclus (and some NPCs)
Where: Central Park, then The Palace Royal Suite
When: Thursday morning, 6:30 AM
Rating/Warnings: TBD
Early birds get the worm. Helen firmly believed in that. When she rose this morning, it was at the break of dawn. When she prepared for the day's activities, she packed a sports bag as if going to the gym. In a sense, she was. She didn't need to dress for the shoot since everything would be provided for her. Plus, it was lingerie anyway. Not a whole lot to dress in. It took some digging into the back most corner of her closet to locate her old armor and weapons, but they surprisingly still fit her. The sword that Pollux gifted to her was in the same shape it had always been in -- well cared for by appearance, though it had been ages since she took it out for cleaning and oiling. Carefully packing it all into her sports duffel, throwing a towel and water bottle on top, she donned a light trench coat to cover up the armor. That wasn't an easily explained outfit walking down the streets of New York. Big Apple fashion could be eccentric at times, but not that eccentric.
When she arrived in the park, none of her guests had arrived yet. There were still 15 minutes left before the time she suggested they show up. As she was setting up, taking her weapons out of her bag, two young men jogged by. One of them spotted her, elbowed his friend to get the friend's attention, and they changed course.
"Isn't that a big sword for a pretty little thing like you?"
Helen arched a scornful eyebrow. "I'm more than capable of handling big swords, thanks for your concern," she replied calmly enough, though her tone was tinged with sarcasm. There was no way she missed the double entendre, but she purposely ignored it.
"Well, hey, if you need someone to practice with..."
Helen would have rolled her eyes, but that would not be very polite. "Actually, some friends of mine are coming soon. So thanks, but no need." She swung Pollux's sword in a circle, warming up. She wasn't surprised that they hadn't recognized her despite her face being plastered on billboards and buses. After all, she wasn't presently wearing next to nothing. Men.
While she ignored them, one of the men picked up one of the other swords she brought uninvited. Helen narrowed her eyes. Laughing like a goofball, the man took a few sloppy practice swings. From that alone, the Spartan queen could easily tell that the man, while athletic, had never picked up a sword to fight in his life. Without so much as a word of warning to her, he charged.
Trained reflexes kicked in and Helen ducked the initial swing, the sharp blade only nicking the ends of her hair. As the man brought the weapon around again, she brought her own up to parry the thrust. When she knocked him back with a swing of her own, she was already gaining the advantage. She took the advantage and pressed forward with a downward slash before arching the swing upward at the man's face. Both times, she connected. The cuts were only shallow nicks, but the man stumbled back, clutching his hand to his bleeding cheek.
"Ow, you crazy bitch!"
Helen sneered. "I told you, you were not welcomed. Yet you touch what is not yours. How typically masculine of you." Behind her back, the man's friend picked up one of the other swords lying in the grass and ran at her. His movements not at all subtle, Helen heard him long before he reached her. With her free hand, Helen reached for the long dagger holstered against her thigh and whirled around, bringing up both weapons in a X block. "And you are just dishonorable." Her foot came up, planted itself against the man's chest, and kicked him away from her.
Contrary to tales of starcrossed lovers, Helen of Sparta never did need anyone to fight her battles for her.